


No Regrets

by Pochi



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Hope, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 11:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pochi/pseuds/Pochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-despair. Komaeda is now dead but his spirit is unable to leave the hospital despite being at peace. He hasn't the strength or desire to really haunt the halls, but he listens to the others; he is always watching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> I was very, very suddenly inspired to write this after listening to "Soundproof Box" by Bitter Ruin. (Look it up and give it a listen.) I just let it write itself, and in the end it turned into the total opposite of the song, which is about a ghost who can't get through to their still-living loved one. I've often thought of Komaeda dying post-despair, since he was always dying to begin with, but the ghost concept never occurred to me until I listened to that song and realized that a lot of the songs I associate with KomaHina refer to ghosts. I thought it a little spooky, no pun intended. So, while this is extremely angsty (I cried profusely while writing it, I won't lie), it's also quite hopeful and bittersweet.

_Little ghost, you are listening,_  
 _Unlike most you don’t miss a thing,_  
 _You see the truth._  
 _I walk the halls invisibly,_  
 _I climb the walls, no one sees me,_  
 _No one but you._

\--"Strange Birds," Birdy

_So this is life as a ghost, huh?_ thought Komaeda shortly after he passed away. All he could do was roam the hospital halls and watch the others as they slept their dreamless sleep. All he could do was listen to Kuzuryuu's weeping when no one was there except him, an invisible eavesdropper. All he could do was watch Owari touch Nidai's face more tenderly than she had probably ever touched anything in her entire rotten life. All he could do was watch Souda get teary-eyed as he watched Sonia at Gundam's bedside, exercising his arms, his legs, talking to him softly, as though he could actually hear her. All he could do was stand beside Hinata and watch his face as he watched all of this.  
  
He could not leave this place. There were days he stayed in bed, pretending to be alive, pretending he could sleep, but the sheets did not move. He pretended he could feel the ocean breeze through an open window, that it ruffled his hair, smelled like sweet life. He pretended he could touch Hinata, hand reaching for his back only to pass right through. He found it bitterly amusing now; back then, when everyone had only known him as dangerously insane, he'd tried to get through to Hinata, in his own twisted way; now, when at last he could finally speak to him without delusion or worry to confuse his words and twist them around, he still could not get through to him. He could only pass through.  
  
The days were endless. Night no longer felt like night, and sun no longer warmed his face. He tried to leave once, only to run into an invisible wall. He realized how pointless leaving was, that he was now nothing more than an imprint of energy and regret inside the hospital, like a stain that would never come out. He would be trapped in this place forever; even after the building was gone, he would wander the ground it had set upon in a lonely stupor.  
  
Maybe he would go insane from loneliness, or maybe his conscience would slip away before that could happen. Maybe when the ghost hunters and occultists came, they would record his voice and hear him say his own name, and they would think he was still there when it was just an empty memory repeating what it had been told in life.  
  
His name was Komaeda Nagito. He was once a member of Super High School Level Despair. His talent had been good luck, but eventually, that luck had run out.  
  
While they were all essentially brain dead, kept alive on life support per request of those who had fought and remained, _he_ had woken up. It was a very rude awakening, the ventilator down his throat, the feeding tube in his stomach, the stump that had replaced his left hand. Nothing felt right. He couldn't remember anything. Then Hinata's face swam into view, just a blurry shape at first, and then red red eyes he remembered from some dark place, and it frightened him. He wanted to get away from those eyes.  
  
A few days later he did get away. He died—again—and instead of remaining on life support, Hinata requested he be taken off. It was only now, as a ghost, that he realized his negative reaction to Hinata's presence—heartbeat increasing with fear, pupils shrinking with terror, incoherent noises and weak thrashing and finally simple crying—was what killed him.  
  
 _Hinata-kun?_ he said one day when Hinata was visiting the hospital. He was much taller than he remembered him. Or maybe ghosts shrank. He couldn't exactly see himself to know for sure. _Why were you there? Why were you the first one I saw that day?_  
  
Hinata did not reply. He stared out the window with his hands in his pockets, far into the distance, lost in thought and unable to hear the little ghost beside him.  
  
 _I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, Hinata-kun…_ His silent voice trailed off, but his translucent eyes remained fixed on the face that frowned at nothing. _I couldn't remember. I think perhaps the program did partially overwrite my memories. But… I also think I just didn't **want** to remember._  
  
Hinata sighed suddenly, a familiar sound. It was the sound of exasperation, but as Komaeda watched his face, he realized it was a forlorn sound, the sound of loneliness and regret, the very things that kept him tethered to this place.  
  
 _Hinata-kun…?_  
  
"…s'my fault…" His voice was low, impossible to hear. At least for someone who was alive.  
  
 _Your fault? That I'm dead? Or everything else? Aren't you here living as Hinata Hajime in order to atone?_  
  
Hinata's forehead hit the window with a quiet _thunk_. It looked as though he was staring into his own reflection, into those red red eyes.  
  
 _You shouldn't worry about me. Being a ghost isn't so bad._ Komaeda smiled, even though Hinata couldn't see it. _I feel so much better now. I don't have to worry about breathing or my brain being eaten away. I don't feel any pain. I have no obsession. I don't even hate myself anymore. Being dead… even though I'm trapped… is very peaceful._  
  
He still had to wonder, however, why he was stuck in this place when he felt at peace. What was he regretting exactly? He felt like dying was the best thing that could be done for him; dying was _his_ way of atonement for the awful things he had done, and even for the things he hadn't intended to happen, the things that had hurt others just because they were near him during a swing of bad luck. No one could be hurt by him anymore, and he could no longer hurt himself with self-deprecating words or handsaws and army knives.  
  
Hinata suddenly turned towards him, but his red red eyes looked right through him and at the bed behind him. They were in an empty hospital room; Komaeda assumed it was for privacy. Hinata did a lot of things around the island, did a lot of things to help out; he knew because he overheard people talking about it, heard Hinata talking about it. He still visited the hospital because that's where their friends were, and if someone couldn't be found, it was a sure thing they were the ones visiting. Someone was surely visiting now, either Sonia or Souda or Owari or Kuzuryuu.  
  
Hinata walked through him, a very peculiar sensation. He'd thought he could no longer feel, but a living body passing straight through a spectral body was like having a sudden heat flash, and the air around him felt thin. For Hinata it was the opposite—a sudden flash of cold that took his breath away. He didn't seem to mind it too much, just hugged his bare arms, rubbing them a little before getting into the bed. He went so far as to pull the thin blanket up over himself, turning on his side and away from the window. Komaeda stared at his back, then moved closer, kneeling by the bed. Or maybe he floated lower. He couldn't really tell, to be honest.  
  
 _Is the hospital really the place to be taking a nap?_ he asked with faint amusement. It was amusement hiding worry. Worry… that's it. He was worried about Hinata. He was still in this place because Hinata held him here. That's when he realized for the first time the empty room they were in had been _his_ room. This was the place he had died. That was the bed he had died in. And over there was the outlet that had sustained his pitiful existence until Hinata told them to pull the plug.  
  
 _Oh, Hinata-kun…_ If ghosts could cry, he would surely be doing it now. _It really is your fault. It's your fault I can't move on._  
  
He didn't know what else to do, so he laid down behind him, curling around him, trying to hold him. It was just pretend, it was all he could do, and the temperature difference made Hinata shiver. Even still, he did not let go.  
  
 _Fine_ , he whispered against the back of Hinata's neck. _I'll just wait for you. Then you'll understand how pointless regret is._  
  
Somehow, his unheard words manifested themselves as chilled breath against Hinata's skin, managing to move the tiny hairs there. Hinata stiffened, but Komaeda could only sense it by noticing his shoulders getting tense.  
  
"…Ko… maeda…?" He said the name so hesitantly it was obvious he thought he was imagining things. Ghosts don't exist. Komaeda had thought that too, before becoming one.  
  
 _I'm here, Hinata-kun._ He didn't think Hinata could hear him anymore than he could see him, but Hinata stiffened again, then turned over and sat up abruptly, staring right at him with those red red eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. He placed his hand where Komaeda remained lying on his side, pressing down on the mattress, feeling the icy air. Then, just as hesitantly, he lifted his hand and waved it a bit in the air above him.  
  
"Cold spot…" Hinata whispered. "Cold spot." He said it again, loud and with more surety.  
  
For some reason, this didn't excite Komaeda at all. It didn't upset him either. He felt the same, just peaceful. He didn't even feel hopeful that Hinata would figure out he was there, or be able to hear him. Hope was only for the living.  
  
Hinata was still living though, and hope was starting to show on his face. "Komaeda?"  
  
 _Please don't ask me to show you a sign. That's so cliché, you know._  
  
"If you're here… can you give me a sign?"  
  
Komaeda sighed, but was somewhat pleased because that was a very Hinata thing to do—still doubting, but also hoping more than anything else. He didn't know how to give him a "sign" though. He couldn't move objects or hit things; he wasn't that strong.  
  
He sat up, watching Hinata's face, his red red eyes looking around the room. The cold spot was in his bed and yet he was looking at every corner and surface, as if Komaeda would suddenly be floating there.  
  
 _What are you looking over there for?_ he asked, putting his hands on Hinata's face. He could feel the warmth, and Hinata could feel the cold, startling a little, finally focusing on the spot right in front of him, almost looking as though he _could_ see Komaeda.  
  
 _Yes, I'm right here._ Komaeda smiled, and again it was like Hinata could see him, could hear him, because his eyes suddenly welled up with tears.  
  
He really couldn't understand why Hinata was so sad. Hinata had never been able to understand him, Komaeda had even tried to kill him, and the first time they'd ever met, Hinata—Kamukura—didn't even _want_ to get to know him.  
  
 _Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. Don't bottle things up. You've always listened to other people's problems, so it's about time someone listened to yours._  
  
"I… I never got to know you," Hinata stammered out, his response so precise and perfectly timed Komaeda was actually starting to believe he could truly hear him. "I dismissed you. I dismissed everything you ever said. But when we woke up, I was able to look at your records, and I realized you had always been telling the truth. I promised myself that when you woke up, I _would_ get to know you. Even if you were still in despair, or too sick to tell me anything, I would do my best to know you for who you are. I wanted to be your friend."  
  
Yes, if Komaeda could cry, he definitely would be. It wasn't until Hinata looked down at something that he realized he _was_ crying, he simply couldn't feel it. His invisible tears hit the bed sheets and left dark splotches on the white fabric. To Hinata, they just appeared there, so he touched one, feeling the icy dampness. He definitely couldn't deny it anymore. Ghosts definitely exist.  
  
And Komaeda was a ghost.  
  
"…Are you crying?" Hinata wiped his own eyes, as if just remembering he was crying too. "I didn't mean to upset you. And I really didn't mean to… scare you or whatever I did when you woke up."  
  
Komaeda decided to try something. Hinata couldn't hear him, but he could feel him to a certain extent, could feel him as cold air. It was something one saw in movies and on TV all the time, but he dared to try it anyway, to be that cliché.  
  
He got up, and Hinata felt the chill leaving the bed, but then he saw the window as it fogged over with a light frost, only the moon shining through. Komaeda didn't need to breathe, but it seemed he could manipulate the air. The real question was, could he manipulate the frost?  
  
It wasn't easy. It took all of his concentration to write on the window: _Not your fault._  
  
Hinata pressed his lips together in a tight line, trying to keep it in this time, watching as the window fogged over again, erasing those words and replacing them with: _You are my friend._  
  
 _If you can forgive me, if that's what you really wanted, then that's what you are, Hinata-kun._ He didn't have the strength to write all that down, but he felt sure Hinata could infer it from what he did write.  
  
He blew lightly on the window again, and managed to write: _Always._  
  
Hinata could no longer contain his tears. He felt no fear or awe at the impossible thing that was happening; only sadness and regret and guilt. "'Always'?"  
  
On the window: _Forever._  
  
It was strange how the atmosphere changed then. As Hinata's voice echoed through the room as a loud, uncontrolled sob, the entire room seemed to shift and fade, to grow dim and gray, like the opacity was slowly being lowered.  
  
 _Are you satisfied…?_ Komaeda wondered, not exactly talking directly to Hinata now. He watched him cry… and cry… and cry, until he couldn't take it anymore. He returned to the bed and touched his face again, cupping it between his hands, and the sudden coldness made Hinata lift his head, look right at him.  
  
 _No regrets_ , Komaeda whispered, partially said to himself as well as Hinata. He leaned in and kissed him, or at least tried to, managing not to slip through him again, managing to hold just the right position for their lips to be touching were they able to touch. Hinata took a sudden deep breath, then slowly exhaled, eyes closing.  
  
They couldn't feel each other as anything but temperature—warm against cold, cold against warm. A deep, deep longing took hold in Komaeda's chest, disrupting the peace. No regrets, this was supposed to erase any trace of regret that may have continued to exist inside him, but it seemed to be doing the opposite. He regretted never touching Hinata, even though it had been impossible when he was alive, impossible to do so without hurting him in some way. He may have tried to kill him, but it wasn't hate for Hinata and the others that had fanned the flames of his madness; it was despair for what they had once been.  
  
Wanting to convey this so Hinata understood, he returned to the window, writing: _I love you._  
  
He had taken back so many words, hidden so many sentiments within convoluted conversation, but as nothing but spirit he could finally be direct. He could finally let Hinata know that it was true.  
  
It looked like Hinata didn't know what to say. He just stared at the words on the window, face nearly expressionless. His red red eyes were so clouded with tears they appeared darker, or maybe that was just the shifting of Komaeda's own vision, Hinata fading away with the rest of this reality.  
  
Komaeda understood: as they released their regrets together, he was beginning to fade away. He was finally being set free.  
  
 _I love you I love you I love you_  
  
 _Aishiteru Aishiteru Aishiteru_  
  
The more he wrote it, the lighter he felt, the more insubstantial. Hinata actually smiled and laughed.  
  
"I get it," he said. "I think… I could have loved you, too."  
  
He could remember a time when Komaeda had been a friendly, cheerful, easy-going person. He could remember the very beginning, before the madness and darkness and despair swirled in his eyes, tainting his hope, twisting his ideals. He could remember _liking_ him, and in retrospect—with eyes opened anew to all the lost opportunities—he remembered all the little things after waking up: touching Komaeda's hair while he slept, aching just to feel how soft he knew it was, wishing he had touched him so gently in life. The light in his gray-green eyes, the gentleness of his smile, the sincerity in his quiet, husky voice, Hinata remembered these things before the despair shattered them all. Yes… he definitely thought he could have loved all those things, had he been given the chance.  
  
 _Have to go_ suddenly appeared on the window, the words written very slowly, and somehow he understood Komaeda's spirit was losing strength, the physical world loosening its hold on him. Hinata didn't want him to go. He wanted him to come back, back to life, back to him, but he knew it was impossible, it was too late…  
  
It was time to let go.  
  
"Okay," he choked out, throat painfully constricted, not wanting to say that one word, not wanting to give consent. He'd already said it was okay to let Komaeda go once, and he had regretted it ever since. Even so, he didn't cry at all over Komaeda's death. He hadn't allowed himself to properly grieve until now; he had been too eaten up with guilt, and now his grieving was sending Komaeda away for good.  
  
"I'm sorry." His voice was trembling, his nose was running, tears were streaming, but Komaeda saw a miracle happen. Content now that he had managed to release his feelings and hear Hinata returned them in the best way he could, he thought he would simply finish passing on. Instead he was held fast in place, as if a greater power wanted him to witness what was happening to Hinata's pained face. Those red red eyes were changing, the color bleeding out, diluted like blood in water, replaced by their original greenish-gold color.  
  
He had always thought Hinata's eyes were beautiful, and with their color renewed, he was finally relieved of everything. Every tiny stitch of regret was ripped from his soul, and he smiled. He had—in some sense—managed to save Hinata. Maybe his luck hadn't run out after all; maybe this was his final stroke of luck, given to Hinata now that he was cleansed of his curse.  
  
 _No… regrets…_  
  
Hinata sniffed then nodded once, slowly. Despite how much he wanted Komaeda to stay, to come back, to give him that second chance, he could feel the regret and guilt seeping from his own soul. "Yeah… I'll live on… with no regrets."  
  
 _Love… see you… again…_  
  
Hinata smiled. That's right... this wasn't really goodbye, was it? They would see each other again, and by then, how pointless would regret be? Nothing else would matter, would it? Of course not, because they would be together, and whatever positive feelings that had existed between them would be the only thing they'd feel.  
  
"Yeah… see you in the next life, Komaeda."  
  
With that promise, Komaeda was set free. He sighed as he felt the world release him, as the room completely faded, replaced with brilliant light. So much radiance… so soothing a feeling… so much like being in Hinata's presence.  
  
Hinata felt his passing as a sudden icy breeze rushing through him, the entire room growing cold for just a few precious seconds as the breeze ruffled his hair and caressed his skin before it was gone, temperature returning to normal, the air going completely still. He looked down at the fitted sheet and saw that even the presence of Komaeda's tears was gone, his own tears the only thing staining the bed. He collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut, head hitting the pillow, staring at the now clear window. His heart ached, he could hear the pounding of blood in his ears, and he realized he was alive, so alive, overflowing with life, and this life would continue on its chosen path for as long as his body sustained it. He would not falter, he would not turn around to look back on his bloody past; he would simply live and breathe and be human.  
  
It was a long time before he finally left the bed, after being caught in a foggy web of strange and silent lucid dreams. He went to the bathroom to check his reflection, to see if all traces of suffering and tears were gone. He was shocked to see that even more than the evidence of mourning was gone; not only the tears, but the bright red of his eyes was gone, too. That hideous color that reminded him everyday of what he had allowed himself to become, the reminder that would stay with him forever, it was just as gone as Komaeda, as if he'd taken it with him. He touched the skin beneath his right eye, leaning forward to look closer, and a slow, peaceful smile appeared on his face.  
  
He was Hinata Hajime. He was himself. He would continue to live--to live to the fullest--so that he would never have any regrets, so that he would never despair. He would live with hope for the future, for his friends, for a reunion with everyone. Even if they never woke up, they would meet again in the next life, whatever it may be. They would be free.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I probably don't have to say this, but just to be sure, "aishiteru" is pretty much the strongest expression of love in Japanese, and it's never used lightly. Other than honorifics and professional titles, I wouldn't include another language in my writing unless I felt it necessary. Since Komaeda uses this word in the game and it carries such heavy significance, I thought it necessary to "translate" what exactly he was writing. I've always felt that the different words and phrases the Japanese language uses to express forms of love makes the sentiment come across far more strongly than it does in English.


End file.
